Enjoying a Hot Summer Day

                                                                                      

Things I Don't Believe

                                                   

That Facebook "cares about me and my memories" . . .

That The Washington Post "misses" me since I cancelled my subscription . . .

That my medical provider is "excited to see me" according to their reminder text . . .

That Fox News is Fair and Balanced . . .

That God saved DJT from an assassin's bullet but let a bystander be killed  . .  .

That HR 1 "gives Americans a raise," per my spineless Representative Chuck Edwards . . .

That hard-working, tax-paying immigrants are destroying our country . . .

That folks on Medicaid can take up the slack caused by deporting farm workers . . .

That choosing Cabinet members based on looks and loyalty rather than expertise is a good idea . . .

***This is not a complete list.

This Old Bench

It's been on our front porch since there was a front porch. But it got its beginnings in the barn where we camped in '73 after buying the land.  

(Elizabeth and Sam's early days in OLD WOUNDS and their life in the barn are, of course, influenced by our experience.)

John cut a window in the eastern end of the barn and built a little shelf/table under it to give us a place to eat. This bench was made of an oak plank that was lying around the barn. John removed the nails that were in it and hammered them straight for reuse. 

He had just a few simple hand tools with him but was able to make nice mortise and tenons to secure the stretcher between the two legs.  

Various dogs have chewed on the little bench over the past half century. 

There was once a Magic Marker black bat on the seat, courtesy of Ethan. It's faded away but Josie has left her mark--a little puddle of glue and glitter.

Just an old bench and not much to look at but oh! the memories!

 

On Age

              

(from Reaperman by Terry Pratchett)

YOU ARE OLD AS YOU THINK YOU ARE.

"Huh! Yeah? Really? That's the kind of stupid thing people always say. They always say, My word, you're looking well. They say, There's life in the old dog yet. Many a good tune played on an old fiddle. That kind of stuff. It's all stupid. As if being old was some sort of thing you should be glad about! As if being philosophical about it will earn you marks! My head knows how to think young, but my knees aren't that good at it. Or my back. Or my teeth. Try telling my knees they're as old as they think they are and see what good it does you. Or them.

This and That

 

It Rained Like One Thing

. . . as Miss Birdie might say. 

Hard rain for about a half an hour. 1.7 inches

We were thrilled, even though our power and internet were knocked out for a while.

This towhee is dealing with wet feathers.

Hard to get things just right.

                                                                            

And more rain later in the day--with a bonus rainbow!

 

Oh, Deer!

Spotted from our dining room window last night. Such a pretty thing and just the color of Jenny. Eating my daylilies  then moving on to weeds. . .

 

Thoughts and Prayers

The devastating floods in Texas have spawned so many questions and not many answers. Did DOGE's cuts at the national weather service contribute to the tragedy? Does anyone rational believe Dear Leader's suggestion that somehow this was Biden's fault? What about MTG's belief that nefarious players are controlling the weather?

Something that leaped out at me was those folks who asserted that prayer was responsible for saving the little girls who survived.

What about those who didn't--despite all the hopes and prayers?  What kind of god would play favorites like that? 

Any loss of life is tragic--but the pictures of those little girls--just Josie's age--break my heart. And I think of the grieving parents, wondering why their prayers weren't heard. 

 

It's So Hot . . .

. . .  that the snakes are going nekkid.

Just kidding--this is a usual occurrence. Our little greenhouse is a favorite spot for blacksnakes to shed their skins and I always love seeing them. This one's head was perfect with even the eye scales preserved. About a three footer--still a teenager, I'd say.

 

Silent Sunday

        

       

 

The Yarkin Pearl (Repost)

 

The folks at The Orchard told me to pick out a bag of apples to take with me and after browsing through the various varieties -- Jonathan, Stayman, Delicious -- I chose York.

It's a tasty, crisp eating apple and tart enough to be good for cooking too.  But, to tell the truth, I chose it for reasons of nostalgia.

Our first fall in the mountains, Clifford, our neighbor down the hill, gave me an apple to try, saying that it was an old time variety and a good keeping apple.  

I tasted it and was impressed. We were planning to plant apple trees come spring and I already had a tentative list of varieties.

"What's the name of this apple?" I asked, and was told that it was a Yarkin Pearl. 

Interesting, I thought, Yarkin could be the name of the discoverer or breeder of the apple and Pearl could be because it was so good -- or maybe the name of his daughter. Nice.

This was 1975 - pre-Internet -- and I began to hunt through my nursery catalogues and Rodale gardening books for more information on this pearl of a fruit -- but alas! I could find no Yarkin Pearls.

I intensified my search, checking various orchard-related books out of the library and leafing  through back issues of Mother Earth News and Organic Gardening.

1975 was also before I learned the language of my adopted home.

Finally I came across the name York Imperial.

York Imperial . . . Yarkin Pearl.

Yep.

No Celebration

I've been disappointed in my country on numerous occasions -- but the  blatant cruelty and greed of the current regime, not to mention its cynical flaunting of the Stars and Stripes while ignoring the Constitution, has me wondering what those Founding Fathers would make of what their vision has become.

Masked thugs kidnapping people and deporting them or putting them in concentration camps without due process --was this the American Dream? An administration that is for sale to the highest bidder, that selects its officials based on appearance and loyalty, rather than experience and integrity, a president who delights in vulgarity and rudeness -- no, nothing to celebrate today.

Instead I'll remember the quiet Fourths of my childhood--a picnic supper of ham, potato salad, and watermelon under the big oaks in my grandparents' back yard and then, as it began to grow dark, my little brother and I with our sparklers, weaving fiery patterns in the air  . . .

 

The Blessing of Rain

Ir's such a pleasure to sit on the porch in the evening with an adult beverage and watch the rain sweep toward us.